He stripped off his own clothing while she watched, grateful that it was still daylight, so she could see the angles of his form. When he was nude, he lowered her onto the mattress. She lifted her arms, beckoning, but instead he knelt over her and kissed her belly.
And then he kissed lower.
He spread out her legs until she was parted, and gazed down at her quim. He ran his fingers over her hipbones, over her mons. He lowered his face and ran his tongue along her thighs.
“I’ve got you, lass,” he murmured.
She melted down onto her bed, her body already relaxed with instinctive certainty that his words were true. She need not perform for him. She could let herself be taken.
And he was taking her. He was over her, so large and yet gentle, every brush of his skin and mouth a caress her body vibrated with in welcome. You. More.
“Ach, Sera,” he murmured, lifting himself up on his forearms. He pressed his nose into her womanhood and inhaled her smell.
All at once she felt afraid. His delectation in their intimacy was too much. This was all too fast. She could not remember the last time she’d been with a man without the haze of wine, and she felt her nakedness, she felt his focus, she felt all the ways that she might wrong him, and she wanted to cover up.
She clenched the counterpane, on the verge of telling him to stop, to get up, to get dressed. To leave before she did something terrible they’d both regret.
But he must have felt the rising tension in her, for he looked up, put his hands flat against her stomach, and peered into her eyes. “You’re all right, love? This is all right?”
And for some reason, in his sensing that it wasn’t all right, it somehow was.
“I’m not accustomed to doing this in daylight. Without wine.”
He pressed his face against her belly and kissed her navel. “Let’s find out if you like it.”
And then his fingers parted her folds, and his tongue pressed down against her clitoris, and his mouth produced a ribbon of pleasure so sudden and surprising that she cried out.
He licked her slowly, making quiet noises of enjoyment, like the quickening he produced in her had an echo in his own loins. He listened to her body with his senses, using her reactions like a map of where to go, and then she could no longer track what he was doing because her only sentient thought was wanting more of it.
You. More.
He lifted her legs and raised them over his shoulders, going deeper, teasing the shallows of her channel with pulses of his tongue. He made love to her with his mouth and hands and breath, and as he did so he began to thrust his hips, grinding his cock into the mattress like her cunt beneath his mouth made him so desperate he had to fuck the bed.
The naked lust of it sent her reeling and she began to shudder and then quake with the intensity. She was keening, soaked, beside herself, and he just moaned into her cunt and lapped at her, guiding her tremors into a shocking crest that rippled on for minutes in staccato little pulses teased out by his tongue.
When she was too spent to endure another second of his delicious torture, she moved her legs. He lifted up his head. “I could do that all day,” he murmured, his eyes devilish and gleaming. “I could do it clear until I died.”
She dropped her legs and curled onto her side, laughing. He slid up and curved himself against her back, put his hand flat against her trembling belly.
His cock slid against her skin, silky hot and damp.
She rolled over to face him. His eyes were soft and full of light.
He kissed her nose.
And that, that, was far too much, this tender nose-kissing. She must distract him with earthly pleasures of her own before the care he took with her made her fall apart.
She reached for his cock and stroked it against her thigh, smearing the wetness at its tip onto her skin. He winced and groaned, and when he reopened his eyes she knew what the expression in them meant. You. More.
She did it again, and he threw back his head. She liked watching the muscles of his stomach clench together in response to her. She wanted him to let go.
“Lie back, sweet man. I’ve got you.”
She admired the sight of him supine. Though she worried that he looked so thin, she liked how it made his musculature stand out. She took a moment to run her fingers over the lean lines of his biceps and his forearms, the tight ridges at his navel, the dark hair that trailed down to his belly, the two suggestive lines that made a hollow from his hips down to his cock. She spread his legs and took his bollocks in her hand.
“Wet me,” he whispered.
She leaned down to lick his cock but he put his hand on it to stop her. “Not with that.”
He looked meaningfully at her quim, his eyes twinkling with lascivious suggestion.
She shimmied up and hovered over him. “Did you mean with my cunt?”
He bit his lip, smiling. “Just a taste.”
She opened herself up and placed his shaft against her wetness. It felt so good that another tiny orgasm went through her, and she froze, shocked at her own response to his bare flesh.
“Don’t stop,” he gasped. She rubbed against him until his cock was slick and coated.
God, she wanted him inside her. But no, she mustn’t.
She moved back between his knees to remove the temptation and sank her mouth around his cockhead. He throbbed, tasting of herself and of the sea. She ran her fingers beneath his balls, putting pressure at the strip of skin between them and his arse.
He said something breathy and indecipherable and put his ankles on the bed, opening up his thighs for her so she could reach any part of him she wanted. God, she loved his ease with sex. She wanted to consume him. She wanted to make him come so hard he screamed.
She ventured toward the cleft of his arse and breathed against it, to see if he welcomed that type of pleasure. When he groaned, she put her finger gently to the ring of muscle.
“Christ,” he gasped.
She paused. “No?” she asked, glancing up at his face.
His head was thrown back into the pillow, and his chest was rising rapidly. “Christ yes,” he rasped.
She smiled. “One moment. I have something that might please you.”
She leaned over to reach her bedside table and removed a little mushroom made of jade and a vial of oil.
His eyes followed her, glassy with arousal. “What’s that?”
“I’m going to tease you with it. Tell me if you like the feeling.”
She knelt back between his outstretched thighs, poured oil between her fingers, and smoothed it over his arsehole. Slowly, she dripped some on the plug, then nudged his opening.
“Oh aye,” he hissed.
She gently increased the pressure, pouring oil on his cock and belly for good measure. When he began to press himself back against the orb, inviting it to open him, she slid it deeper. He clutched the counterpane, his hips bucking involuntarily, as she lodged it in his channel.
His pleasure sent a stream oozing from his cock.
She lowered her lips and swirled them up and down around his shaft, then sank her mouth around him and drew him deep into her throat. She placed her fingers on the hollow of his belly as she sucked him, so she could feel the clenching of his muscles. He clutched her hair and gave himself to the rhythm of her mouth, and she could feel the tension building, taste his anticipation. It was so arousing that her quim pulsed in sympathy. She reached down and put her fingers to her cunt and moved against her hand.